Hero?
by D. Russel Smith
Summary: A one-shot story of a wizard king trying to liberate the kingdom of Myst from the Tyranny of a despotic overlord.


The battle raged all around the paradoxically tranquil hill as the four figures standing at its crest surveyed the chaos surrounding them. Ryvius, The Black Storm and his three attendants commanded their forces in this decisive battle with a cool detachment that seemed horribly misplaced amidst the carnage of war. The Wizard-King was tall, standing at six and a half feet, and built more like a warrior than a mage with his broad shoulders and impressive physique. His body was hidden, however, by elaborate white robes with black highlights and gold trim, and his handsome features were similarly hidden by the cowl of his matching white cloak. Though he had not yet reached thirty, long white hair showed from within his hood, sometimes falling outside, reaching his chest. As he glanced from one conflict to the next, his left eye glowed with a pale blue light from behind a black mask which covered the left half of his face.

"Derek," the lord said softly in his deep bass voice, "pull the second and fourth cavalry units back, have the second reform and charge the southern enemy advance while the fourth harries the retreating northeast."

Derek nodded in response. Easily the most physically imposing on the hill, The Herald of the Storm was equal in height to his king, but nearly twice as broad at the shoulders, and even his armor could not fully hide an enormous musculature. His long brown hair was tied back and reached his elbows, and his hard face was all planes and angles, highlighted by battle-scars. His armor gleamed in the sunlight as he stood easily with his greataxe in hand. His voice was a deep baritone as he bellowed Ryvius' orders to the troops, then paused and added "And have the fourth archers support their cavalry during their intervals!"

Ryvius glanced quizzically at his top general, who merely shrugged, saying "Why give them space to breathe?"

The king nodded passively and said "Jhozen, have spare medical supplies and healers distributed among the captured enemies."

Jhozen nodded, saying "As you wish, sire," and moved off to see it done. Jhozen was the smallest of the four, a full foot shorter than his king, with a bland face and short dark hair graying at the temples. Wearing a simple black tunic and breeches, his only decoration the brooch that indicated his station as the Seneschal of the Storm, it was obvious that he was a non-combatant.

"Why the healers?"

The voice was the sound of a hundred men growling in a deep cavern, echoing off the walls. The speaker wore thick black armor, with a black cloak embroidered with the sigil of Ryvius, clasped by a brooch symbolizing his own nobility. His helm matched his armor, and completely concealed his entire head, save for the occasional glint of red light where his eyes would be.

"The whole purpose of this battle is to save this country, remember?" Ryvius responded casually, "to take this nation for myself, I need these people to want me to rule them."

"Yes," the hidden man said, "but these soldiers are the enemy."

"For now," the king acceded, "but remember, Elijah, their 'emperor' is the true enemy. Once he is deposed, they will have no quarrel with us. Unless we give them one."

Before the Praetor of the Stormguard could respond, a cry of alarm arose from the ring of black-armored guards surrounding the hill. Ryvius turned to see a lone soldier had broken through the Stormguard and was charging the crest. The wizard watched with mild surprise as Jhozen rose like a ghost from the ground in front of the man, and momentarily shed his human guise in favor of his true form. The confident yet mild seeming attendant was gone, and in his place was a mass of shadow in a vaguely humanoid form with shining red points of light for eyes, hovering before the attacker, who stared in shock. To everyone's surprise, the enemy soldier recovered quickly and rolled under the wraith, landing easily on his feet and continued his charge, screaming his battle cry, only to be tackled by Elijah and pinned to the ground, his sword skidding to Ryvius' feet.

"My congratulations," Ryvius said as a picked up his attacker's blade, "not many men could break through the Stormguard, and even less would keep their senses at the sight of Jhozen in his true form. What is your name, soldier?"

"BASTARD!" the soldier cried, "You've killed all my brothers! I'll have your head!"

"Well that certainly reveals your motivation," the Archmage replied drily, "but I asked for your name."

Elijah released the soldier and stood as Jhozen, the disguise restored, strode up the hill scowling. The soldier stood slowly, eyeing his captors warily. A battered breastplate and mail sleeves announced that he was of no significant rank, yet he glared defiantly at the king before him as he finally answered "Willem, brother to Gregory, Joshua and Jonothan, all killed by your soldiers."

After a moment's consideration, Ryvius said "I'll make you a deal. You want to kill me, and I'll give you the chance."

Willem blinked in surprise, and looked around. Elijah jerked his head in Ryvius' direction in surprise, while Derek simply smirked and Jhozen remained impassive. "How do you mean?" The soldier said finally.

"A duel," the king replied, "If you win, my life is yours. If you lose, you'll listen to what I have to say with an open mind."

"I have no magicks," Willem spat, "Just kill me."

"I have no intention of using my magic," Ryvius replied, "or of killing you."

"Lies!" Willem cried, "How could a wizard hope to win a duel with a soldier without his magic?!"

Ryvius thrust the man's sword in the ground in front of him and stepped back saying "Accept and find out."

Willem hesitated only a moment before wresting his blade from the ground and taking a defensive stance. Smiling, the Archmage first pulled down his cowl then discarded his cloak completely, then pulled his robes apart at the chest, letting the top half fall, hanging over his sash. Now bare-chested, the wizard extended his left hand, and Derek placed an intricately decorated greataxe in his hand. Taking the weapon in hand, Ryvius stepped forward and engaged Willem swiftly and skillfully. His axe met with Willem's sword many times, both combatants moving with grace and speed, and long minutes passed with neither gaining an upper hand. Then Willem feinted twice, causing Ryvius to misstep, and the soldier's blade tasted flesh, chewing into the wizard's right thigh, and sending him to the ground.

Swinging his axe in a wide, low arc, Ryvius forced the young soldier to leap back, giving him time to regain his footing, though he greatly favored his right leg. Just as Willem was about to charge again, Ryvius cried "Stay back!"

Chancing a look behind him, he saw Elijah stopped in mid-step, his sword half-drawn. Returning his attention to his opponent, Willem gripped his sword tightly as the wizard said "This is a duel! No one will interfere!"

The two combatants circled each other once more, and Willem wondered at the wizard's strategy, when Ryvius glanced up, smiled, and hurled his axe upward. Raising his sword, Willem looked up, poised to counter whatever attack the wizard had launched, and realized too late that it was a ruse.

Willem looked ahead just as Ryvius brought his knee up into the soldier's groin. Staggered, Willem could not keep the wizard from wresting his sword from his grasp as he fell. The soldier heard the thunk of the axe landing in the dirt and felt the point of his own sword pressed lightly to his chin. Looking up, he saw a satisfied Ryvius staring down at him, saying "Do you yield?"

Looking away in shame, Willem said "Yes."

"Good," Ryvius replied, and dropped the sword before him.

The wizard shrugged his robe back over his shoulders and moved to replace is fallen cloak, limping on his injured leg. Willem stood slowly, eyeing his fallen blade, but left it where it lay; his own honor was as important to him as his life. When the Archmage returned, his cowl had been returned and his axe was gone, replaced by an ornate staff in his right hand which he seemed to be using as a walking stick.

"That was the first duel I've ever fought," Ryvius said conversationally, "Tell me, Willem, do you think I did well?"

"You won, didn't you?" the beaten man said irritably.

"I suppose that's true," the wizard murmured, "but still, I would have preferred to avoid this gash on my leg."

Glancing down, Willem saw that blood was still seeping through the wound, staining the immaculate white of his robes. "Shouldn't you get that healed?" the soldier asked absently.

Ryvius looked sadly about the battlefield before responding. "How many men, ally or enemy, are wounded far worse than this, yet ignoring their pain in pursuit of victory for someone that most of them have never met?"

Willem blinked in surprise, and could think of nothing to say. For a long moment the hill was silent. Finally the wizard said "Willem, I am truly sorry for your loss. I never wanted these tragedies to befall anyone, but please understand that I wasn't targeting you or your family. The people of your nation came to me and begged to be liberated from your emperor, who rules Myst with a despotic iron fist. How could I refuse them? They have been abused and mistreated ever since he took the throne, and I can't abide that kind of conduct. Tell me; were you and your brothers in Myst's army before Hergren became emperor?"

"Nearly the whole army was," Willem elaborated, "I don't know anyone who willingly joined during the emperor's regime."

"Then you fight for a cause you don't believe in," Ryvius said sadly, "And your brothers died for it. I wish I could bring them back, but that power rests with the gods alone. I can manipulate the most powerful of arcane energies, but even I cannot perform miracles. I want to end this as quickly as I can, so that whoever remains in your army once the war is complete may return home to their brothers and wives and children. Don't you?"

"Of course," Willem said, "but these people would still be alive if not for your interference! You're guilty for every death that's happened out here!"

"I know," the wizard sighed, "but what else could I do? What would you have done?"

"I—" Willem began, "Well, I, that is . . ."

"You see?" Ryvius said, "No one could allow so many innocent people to suffer. Not and still call themselves human. But to save the women and children living under Hergren's tyranny, I have no choice but to cut my way through the men who fight for him."

Willem mulled this over in his mind before asking "Then why spare me?"

"Because I've already destroyed your family," the wizard replied, "I've taken three of your father's sons away from him, and I don't want to take another."

"Well what do you expect me to do?" Willem demanded, "Return to my unit and tell them of your kindness? Explain to my mother that you didn't mean for her sons to die by your orders?!"

"Actually," Ryvius said "I was hoping you'd defect."

"W-what?" Willem sputtered, "Turn my back on my comrades? Bring my sword to bear against those who have protected me in the past?!"

"No," the wizard answered, "I would never ask that of you. But your skills are undeniable, and I always have a place for competent officers in my Stormguard."

"Stormguard?" Willem said uncomprehendingly, "You mean your personal bodyguard?"

"The Stormguard is much more than that," Ryvius laughed, "They are charged with the safety of all my people, a combination of constabulary and city watch that interlace all of my territory, from my capital of Stormhold to the smallest hamlet. In truth, my safety is not even in their charter, but Praetor Elijah insists on it."

"Why would you want me in this 'Stormguard'?" Willem asked, "Surely you can find a multitude of willing bodies for that."

"For personnel, yes," the Archmage replied, "But . . . before I go on, you should know that the leaders of your resistance have it set in their minds that I should be their new king."

"So you're creating your own empire," Willem said disgustedly, "You're no different from Hergren."

"Don't misunderstand," Ryvius said calmly, "I don't want to. I still intend to argue the point after the war is won, but I can understand their viewpoint. They want an experienced ruler who won't grind them under heel, and my lands are both happy and prosperous."

"And I am to simply take you at your word?" Willem said suspiciously.

"Absolutely not," The wizard replied, "I hope you will come to my lands and see for yourself. Oh, it is no Utopia, the same difficulties exist as you would find in any city. Thieves, hooligans, gangs, these cannot be expunged from any place. But the Stormguard keeps my people safe from most violence, beggars are practically non-existent, taxes are low, trade is high, work readily available, and all my people share a right to freely express themselves without fear of reproach. The lowest of street-sweepers may shout that I am a devil and should be destroyed, and the worst he can expect from me is a foul glare."

"A foul glare?" Willem said unbelievingly.

"Well I'm not going to smile at a man who says I'm a devil," Ryvius said grinning, "But his actions are not a crime in my land and he would not be punished."

After a moment Willem said "Still, you've got plenty of soldiers, so why me?"

"Because If I am elected to rule Myst, I'll need to place Stormguard in many new places, and to maintain them, I'll need captains that I can trust."

Willem looked on in confusion for a moment, then his eyes widened as he said "You want to make me a captain?"

"Yes," the wizard replied simply.

"But-but . . . I'm no officer," Willem stammered, "I'm not even a sergeant."

"No," Ryvius said, "but you clearly have the skill and character to be one."

"Skill and character . . . ?" Willem said befuddled.

"Yes," was the wizard's reply, "As I said, not many men could break through a ring of Stormguard, and less would keep their senses at the sight of Jhozen's true form. You did, proving your skill. And you kept your word when you lost the duel, proving your strength of character. So long as you keep your fiery spirit and are always willing to speak honestly, whether or not I want to hear it, you'll make a fine captain."

"Captain," Willem said quietly, "But what about my mother and father? What about my brothers?"

Ryvius' smile faded as he shook his head and said "Alas, there is nothing I can do for your fallen brothers, save ensure that their memories are honored. As for your mother and father, they will be accorded the same rights, privileges, and protection of all my citizens. What city are you from?"

"Jordan," Willem answered, "It's a sizeable city southeast of the capital."

"Then, if I am elected," Ryvius declared, "you will be the captain of the Stormguard in Jordan. That is, if you choose to accept my offer."

Narrowing his eyes, Willem asked "And what if I don't?"

"Then you'll be placed with the other captured soldiers until this war's conclusion," Ryvius replied, "Afterward you'll be returned to normal military service."

After a moment's hesitation, Willem said "I'd like to see my captured comrades."

Ryvius raised an eyebrow and said "Don't tell me you've refused already?"

"No," Willem said, "But I want to make sure that my comrades are well cared for."

"Very well," Ryvius replied, "Elijah, please escort Willem to the prisoner camp, and answer any questions he may have. Once he has finished, return him here if he so wishes."

"My Lord," was the Praetor's response, his voice chilling as he bowed slightly and indicated for Willem to follow.

The walk was relatively short, and the camp large. A simple fence marked the boundary, which was manned by a few soldiers in steel armor with pikes. At Elijah's approach, each man snapped to attention and brought his right fist to his chest in salute, which Elijah returned with equal speed. Inside the fence many men wearing the colors of Myst's army milled about freely, chatting amongst themselves or aiding the apothecaries and healers with the wounded, many of whom should probably have died already.

Willem circled the fence, looking into open tents and clusters of people in wonderment at their demeanor. Aside from the sick and injured, nearly all of the captured soldiers seemed perfectly happy with their current situation. Turning to his guide, Willem asked "Why do they all seem so . . . content?"

"They are given all they may need," Was Elijah's reply, "And accorded the same rights and protection as citizens. Their only restriction is that they must stay within the confines of their camp.

"What if someone tries to escape?" Willem asked.

The knight shrugged and said "It hasn't happened yet."

After a final walk around the fence, Willem decided that there was no one he recognized and said "Sir, please return me to Lord Ryvius."

"I take it, then, that you've decided to accept his offer?" Elijah asked.

"Yes, Sir," Was the soldier's reply.

"Good to hear," Elijah said, "But don't think I'll go easy on you just because Lord Ryvius seems to have taken a liking to you. I treat all my officers the same, and you'll be no exception, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Willem replied seriously.

"Good," the praetor said after a moment, and began to walk away, but stopped and turned.

Facing the young man, Elijah said "You should know that, like Jhozen, I'm not human."

Willem frowned, but said only "How do you mean, sir?"

Elijah responded by raising his visor, revealing not a human face, but a skull with no flesh, and red points of light serving for eyes. Willem yelped in surprise and stepped back, but regained his composure quickly, returning to a respectful position, and asked "What are you?"

"I was a champion of Heironeous," the praetor replied, "But years ago, in battle with a great demon, I died."

"Died?" Willem said.

"Yes, I died," Elijah continued, "I killed the demon, but the way I did it resulted in my death as well. It was a glorious death, and I was rewarded with an afterlife near my god, who allowed all his servants to view the living world at their leisure, but not interfere. One day, I saw my wife, my sister, and my young son boarding up the windows to our manor, preparing for battle. When I looked further, I discovered a horde of undead was ravaging the countryside, and my family was directly in their path. My wife and sister had taken in survivors from the attacks, and promised their safety, but they couldn't have held off the onslaught alone . . ."

"What happened?" Willem asked with rapt attention.

"I violated the laws of my plane and contacted Lord Ryvius. He was the most powerful wizard I had ever heard of, and I asked that he return me to life, that I may protect my family.

"And he did!" Willem declared, "And if he brought you back—"

"Make no mistake," Elijah interjected, "This is no life. He told me the same thing he told you at first, that he could not perform miracles. But I persisted, knowing that his mastery over wizardry was total, and that it included the necromantic arts. He warned me of the consequences of such an act and urged that I reconsider, but I could not. I knew that I would not be a man, but one of the walking dead upon my return, and begged his aid. Eventually he gave in and cast the spell which made me the shell of a man you see before you."

"And your family?" Willem urged.

"Lord Ryvius came with me to help," Elijah responded, "And together we devastated the horde of undead and saved my family, but they would have no part of what I had become. I expected this, and moved on once they were safe. That is the fate that awaits your brothers if he were to call their spirits back from the afterlife. They would be shells of men, hated and reviled by all who met them."

"But you had no choice," Willem said, finally understanding.

"Correct," was the response, "And one day, when I feel my debt to him is repaid, I will ask Lord Ryvius to return me to death. But for now, I serve him by ensuring the safety of both he and his people."

Both men were silent afterward as Elijah moved toward the hilltop where Ryvius waited. Willem followed, paying little attention to the people around him. When he arrived on the hilltop, he found Ryvius in conference with Derek and Jhozen, which Elijah quickly joined. While he waited, Willem heard Derek say "The surrender is unconditional, this battle is over."

"Excellent," was the wizard's reply, "see to their wounded and make preparations for a short stay while we sort everything out. See how many of them will convert to our side, the rest can be returned to Myst's military after Hergren is deposed."

"Consider it done," the warrior said, and after a nod the wizard turned to face the young soldier patiently waiting on the sidelines.

********************************************************

Ryvius walked calmly forward to address the young man standing before him, but remained silent, waiting to hear what he had to say. After a moment, the soldier brought his fist to his breast and said "I accept your offer, my lord."

Ryvius smiled and replied "Excellent, I hoped you would. Jhozen will see to it that you are properly outfitted and educate you on anything you need for your new position. I hope to see you soon, captain."

Smiling, Willem bowed away and left with the attendant. After he had gone, Elijah asked "How much does he know?"

"About you?" Ryvius said, "He knows the same truth about you as everyone else. And the same lie. He knows not to expect special treatment from you as well."

The death knight grunted his satisfaction and listened as Derek asked "Anything else we should know?"

"Yes," the wizard replied, "He believes that he and I fought a duel in which he injured my leg, so if he asks, Jhozen had a replacement robe brought to me."

"Isn't that a little much?" Derek asked, smiling.

"Maybe," Ryvius said, "But the more believable the memory, the less likely he is to question it. As it is, he'll be fanatically loyal to me of his own free will, and that's what I need.


End file.
